In the teleportation cloister, the marine strike teams returned intact. The veteran scout sergeant would turn to his men and command them, “Perform the cleansing rituals for your shotguns. Be ready to redeploy to the planet’s surface within the hour. I want to see Urban and Temperate Greenwood camouflage packed, bolters and needlepoint rifles ready at that time.”

Likewise, the Deathwing commander ordered his men to stand ready in less restrictive power-armor in case they were needed support for the ground war.

Beneath them, the Ork cruiser would start to disintegrate. The cruiser’s tower, its engines, turrets, and anything else that created drag ripped off first. Then the bulkheads melted and broke apart, spewing an inferno through the veins of the ship, scorching the crew, detonating the ships reactor and it still had a supersonic collision with the earth below. None would survive.

On the surface though, the marines were readying to land. The great hawks heavy bolters began spewing fragmenting bolts and launching aerial burst grenades. They would kill anyone on the landing zone or at least make them shield their eyes and duck for cover so the resistance in the landing zone would be minimal against the first boots on the ground.